


A Speedster By Any Other Name

by Wunderchick



Series: Someone more than we expected [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Gen, M/M, Young Justice AU, in which thomas whine a lot, thominewt are childish and alby is done with them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wunderchick/pseuds/Wunderchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Young Justice AU) Thomas is the acolyte of super-hero Flash, and newest addition to the Young Justice team. At least, he will be once he finds a superhero alias nobody's called dibs on. Yes, we're looking at you, "Speedy" Ben.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Speedster By Any Other Name

« I can't fucking believe this shank! » Thomas bellowed as he plopped himself down on the sofa, eyes fixed stubbornly on his knees, upon which rested his whitened knuckles.

It was a childish reaction, he knew that much, but how was he supposed to have his big breakout if people kept stealing the best names? And by people, he meant Ben, Alby's boyfriend, which made everything all the more complicated. One did not contradict, disagree with, or even _discuss_ Alby, so of course his marvelous, beloved blond was off limits as well. But still...

“Come on Tommy, you're being a bit--”  
“A _lot._ ”  
“--silly--”  
“ _Fucking ridiculous._ ”  
“--right now- Minho, you're _not_ helping.”

Newt stared at the Kryptonian with a pointed look, which would have impressed Thomas under any other circumstances. As good as Newt was, it took guts to stand up to the Boy of Steel--whatever 'boy' was left in this big, muscular body anyway. As it was, the bulkier hero could only stand Newt's reproachful glare for about three seconds, before caving in with a muttered “alright, alright”, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

Once the filter-deprived individual had been dealt with, the blond guy turned back to his distressed friend, sighing at the view of him, as he had now buried his face in both hands. Newt couldn't help but think he looked like a stressed out father waiting for his wife to give birth.

“Okay Tommy, listen here,” he started calmly, crouching down in front of his friend so Thomas could see him if he spread out his fingers a little. “I get that you're upset, since you've been waiting to go out there for so long, but there are many other names that you maybe haven't considered yet!”

Thomas finally looked up, his expression a mixture of muted disbelief and overwhelming distress.

“I've even considered _Kid Flash_ ,” he spat out reluctantly, glaring at Minho who tried, and failed, to bottle up his laughter. “I don't think there's anything that could have gone under my radar at this point.”

“Hey, that's a good idea, _Radar_!”

Both citizens of Earth ignored what Superboy probably thought was a hilarious contribution to the conversation.

“Maybe you should go with something less 'in-your-face'? After all, not everyone's a Captain Obvious like Krypton's most annoying teenager.”

They also ignored Minho's cry of indignation.

“Duh, given that Ben decided to take the alias _Speedy_. What the hell, man, it doesn't make any sense that _he_ of all heroes would be called _Speedy_ , couldn't he leave that one to the actual speedster?”

Seriously, it had been a low blow. Even with his quick wit, Thomas had taken a while before he thought of that one, and just when he was seriously considering it, Ben had snatched it from him. So, right, he hadn't known, but shouldn't it be obvious? Ben's only reason was that the name sounded _nice_ , what kind of logic was that? All of them had a name that made sense—Minho and his “I'm a tiny Superman” alias, Newt and his “I can predict everything that will happen like Apollo's old Delphian favorites because I'm smart that way”, and Alby had found himself the most badass name that ever was: _Nightwing_.

So _why oh why_ would a damn archer take a speedster's name, and why should said speedster resort to a second-rate alias for himself?

Then again, Thomas could only blame himself for his current predicament: he had been training for a year to make sure he was worthy of the vigilante lifestyle, completely neglecting his alias-treasure hunt in the meantime. Picking a fitting, imposing name hadn't sounded like much of an effort, especially when he had looked at the other heroes around him, whose names had been tailored perfectly to suit everything they stood for; some had even been named by their citizens, which was even easier -and quite flattering, too. Only when the brunet's mentor had declared him ready to go out there and fight, had the young runner realized finding a codename would be harder than he had imagined.

That had been three months ago, and he was still stuck.

“Maybe you should grab a dictionnary and check out all the words in there? There has to be at least one that's not completely repulsive!”  
Newt rolled his eyes at Minho, wondering why he had ever found him charming to begin with.  
“Hey babe, don't look at me like that, not everyone's smart enough to pull off something like _Oracle_ ,” the Kryptonian pleaded, hands held up in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

Right, compliments. Newt remembered now why he was dating this idiot. He flashed his teeth at the Superboy in a vaguely menacing grin, oblivious to the disgusted face Thomas was making at them.

Silence took over then, the three of them brainstorming for a name in their hideout's living room of sorts, Thomas still sitting on the edge of the pale blue sofa with Newt at his side, Minho standing up in front of them. They were so deep in thought they didn't register the recorded voice announcing 'Nightwing, B-01', nor Alby's footsteps as he walked up to them.

Seeing the trio so still, so quiet, the team leader stopped in his tracks, mimicking their statuesque immobility, eyes widened and brows furrowed in confusion. His gaze went from Newt, to Thomas, to Minho, then back to Newt and Thomas again and he wondered for a brief moment if someone with hypnotic abilities had infiltrated their HQ, or if Thomas had somehow broken the laws of physics again and stuck them all in time.

But that made little sense, as the speedster had been extremely careful since that one time he had accidentally ran three minutes and fifty-five seconds in the past and fifteen miles away from his initial spot, making his two closest friends think he had ran himself to dust. They had been hysterical until Flash's sidekick had come back with cookies and mocha lattes.

So, no, no speedster-induced catastrophe, especially with Newt there to tone down the dangerous enthusiasm the other two could sometimes be prone to. As for a possible psychic intruder, Alby remembered hearing that speedsters were invulnerable to it—what with their thoughts being way too fast for anyone other than a speedster to get a hold of them, and there was no speedster with psychic abilities, as far as Nightwing knew. Therefore, he had to consider the most unlikely option, something so crazy his brain pushed the idea away with disdain: they were actually extremely concentrated.

The three of them.

At the same time.

 _Right_.

He cleared his throat once: no reaction. He cleared it a second time, louder: Newt frowned, but didn't move. Not bothering to be particularly discreet, Alby walked up to the low table behind Minho, and slammed both hands on it, with as much force as the table could withstand.

The effect was immediate: Thomas yelled and threw himself backwards at high speed, taking the sofa down with him. Newt, naturally slower to react, was caught in the movement, tumbling down next to Thomas with a 'oof'. Minho, on the other hand, jumped in surprise, knocking the back of his shins against the table, landing flat on it, his skull making a horrible cracking noise -or was it the table?

Yes, it was the table, as Alby noticed when the half-kryptonian got up, fists balled up and ready for a fight. The table sported an exquisite spiderweb-like crack where the boy of steel's head had collided, but no blood, not even a stray hair could be seen on it. Clearly the kryptonian was hard-headed in more ways than one.

Minho's expression softened when he realized who was responsible for the ruckus, the other two heroes complaining loudly about headbutting each other. Thomas already had a bump on his forehead, round as a pigeon egg, which would most likely be gone under the next five minutes; Newt, on the other hand, was anxiously feeling his forehead, looking for the telltale throbbing to indicate where on his magnificent, youthful face the evil would appear.

Alby clapped his hands together, slowly, a bored look on his face. All heads turned to him then, as they should—he was _Nightwing_ , for crying out loud.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Newt cried out, horrified by his trusted teammate's lack of tact. Hadn't they both had the same lectures about diplomacy?  
“That's exactly what I wanted to ask you guys. You were so still I thought something had gone wrong with him,” the leader explained, jerking his chin in Thomas' direction.

Thomas, who suddenly remembered what was wrong with him, by which really he meant what was wrong with _Ben_ , jumped on his feet and sped towards Alby. When he stopped, they were nose to nose (or as close to it as they could be with Batman's protégé towering over the speedster), and he was shaking his pointer finger in Alby's face.

“You! You're the one I wanted to see. Do you have any idea what your boyfriend has _done_?”  
“Woah, easy kid, what's the matter with Ben?” the now-concerned boyfriend asked with a frown.  
“What's the matt- he took my _name_ , Nightwing, he _stole_ it from me!”

Realization dawned on Alby's face, following a path he had cleared for it as he ran his hand from forehead to chin, hoping that maybe when he was done with the painfully slow motion, he would wake up in a reality where his teammates weren't absolute idiots.

“That's what got the three of you so worked up, a stupid name story? Had you even claimed it before he did?”

“No, but that's beside the point! This is clearly a speedster name, your sweet little buttercup needs to back off!”

By then, Minho had grabbed Thomas by the back of his shirt and proceeded to drag him a few inches away from their leader. Not that Alby would whack him over the head for being oversensitive, but if Thomas so much as brushed the guy at high speed, it wouldn't be pretty, and even Newt and Minho combined wouldn't be able to help save their friend from the Gotham vigilante's revenge.

“Okay, first of all,” said Alby, both hands held up to try and calm their nameless recruit down, “don't you ever, _ever_ call him my 'sweet little buttercup' ever again. Secondly, is Newt an actual Oracle? I don't think so. Names don't have to be exact science, you just gotta find something you like. Which brings me to my last point: Ben likes his new name, he's going to stick to it, end of discussion.”

It was not the end of the discussion, Thomas' sulkily crossed arms said that much, but he knew there was no way Alby would cave in. After a few tense seconds, he exhaled the way Minho did when he felt like freezing something on the spot, and went to sit on the sofa Superboy had put back in its rightful place.

“I don't care if he likes it,” Thomas lied, “if he only just likes it, what's the point? You can like any name, it's loving it that matters.”

Alby walked up to stand in front of him, not unlike the way Newt and Minho had earlier.

“Names are like our costumes, Thomas, they have to be made for us. Ben feels this one is made for him. If you had felt the same, you would have taken it before he did.”  
“I wanted to think hard about it, make sure it suited me,” Thomas explained grumpily. It only made Alby smile.

“You shouldn't think so hard about it. The name should be like an impact when you first hear it, it must strike a chord in you, resonate inside you like it's your missing piece. If you think about it that way, all of us seem to have chosen our names impulsively, when in truth it was a call, not an impulse, you get me?”

Thomas seemed to get him alright, if the way his eyes widened in realization was indication enough. He looked up, meeting Alby's gaze, and whispered in a way the older one had only ever heard from victims of possessions: “ _Impulse_.”

Minho reacted the fastest, a huge grin tearing his face in two: “dude, it sounds great!”

Thomas nodded, slowly at first, then faster and faster until his head was nothing but a blur and his voice sounded artificial.

“I found it guys, Impulse! I'm Impulse!” He stood up, his body vibrating with happiness, and took to running around the room in circles, yelling his own, new name and crowing in victory. “I'm Impulse, you shanks, nobody's taking that name now, it's mine, it's freaking _mine_ , you heard me? Impulse!”

Newt concluded the name suited him a bit too much, to which the two speechless powerhouses could only nod in agreement.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my friends for sending me Facebook stickers when I was scared shitless of posting my first fic ever since a solid four years. Obviously I'm talking about this here thing, which is supposedly the first in a series of TMR/YJ aus, because I'm a dork who loves to combine her favorite things together. Also, daresay Nightwing!Alby isn't a godsent.


End file.
